Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any related characters.
Chapter 21: Crow ( / krō / )
1. verb – to utter an inarticulate cry of pleasure
2. verb – (with eat) to be forced to admit to having made a mistake
3. verb – to gloat, boast, or exult
-o-o-o-
She hung suspended in darkness, drenched in intangible black. A vast abyss surrounded her. There was nothing substantial in this place, nothing solid to touch. She let out an airless scream but her voice was swallowed, absorbed by the thick shadows that pressed close in all directions. She realized she had no body here, no palpable mass – nothing to move or see. Existence was but detached awareness. Time stretched to perpetuity. Seconds could have passed. Months. Years. She did not know.
She fought to find something – some memory she could cling to in this empty place. Images of her childhood entered her mind: of a girl in a too-quiet house, of a boy in a too-new uniform. I know him, she thought. She recalled the feel of his warmth, the weight of his presence. He was everything she was not: loud while she was quiet, bold while she was careful, restless while she was patient. Yet he complimented her; his life fit into hers like a hand in glove. So ingrained he was a fixture. A constant.
It was a long time before she saw the light flickering above her. It was but a small, cold circle: a wavering aperture to another place. Relieved, She pushed toward it, drinking in the one point of substance she could find in the emptiness that surrounded her. It glimmered tantalizingly just beyond her reach, but each time she tried to escape – each time she reached out – an unseen hand pressed down, forcing her back.
"No!" she cried, but no sound escaped. She fought, struggling to break free of the binding darkness.
"Riza."
The light glimmered brighter for a moment, shuddering with the cadence of her name. Gasping, Riza twisted her unsubstantial body, desperately trying to move toward the light. "Roy!" she screamed. "Roy!" Though she had no corporal form she could feel the force fighting to keep her in place, wrestling her away from the light that offered liberation from the black.
"Stop! Don't!"
His voice was filled with pain. Riza pushed forward, ignoring the strain. As she did she gradually felt her limbs return. Her body was awakening, coalescing around her: bone, muscle, and sinew. But still the darkness pressed up against her. She could feel her scalp stretch as though something gripped her hair. Her very skin felt taut, drawn by the intense magnetism of the black. Unseen hands clasped her shoulders; what felt like talons dug into her flesh.
"I hate you."
Riza gasped, shrinking back. It was her voice that emanated from the darkness now. But she did not utter those words; they had never entered her thoughts. Someone had stolen her will. She was being used. Her body was not her own, occupied by a stranger.
Ashika. The name drifted from the darkness and Riza's mind clasped around it with terrible recognition. She remembered the cavern, the girl, the general strapped to stone. She remembered a high-keening laugh and flashes of red. She remembered something burrowing into her mind. A trace of her inside of you. The words were spoken in a soft Xingese accent, swept away by a dry desert wind. Riza looked up at the light. It was shrinking; darkness bled into its edges and its glow was beginning to dim. She trapped me here, Riza thought. Here, in my own mind. A shadow fell over the faraway light, echoing her fear.
"Riza, listen to me."
"I'm here!" she tried to shout, but the darkness carried it away.
"Please. Riza, I know you can hear me."
I can hear you, Roy. He needed her. Growling, she squirmed and struggled, throwing off her bindings and dragging her gradually coalescing body toward the light. Like iron to a lodestone, she felt drawn to it. Like a dying soldier she thirsted for it. Slowly – achingly – her goal pulsed and grew. As she approached, the radiance bathed her, forcing the darkness back. Buoyed by her progress, she pushed harder. Soon the light was tantalizingly close and the air around her throbbed with its energy. It filled her field of view like a rising sun. Riza threw a hand over her eyes to shield them from the fierce glow and reached out with her free hand, her fingers desperately stretching towards the light.
"I remember… when I had this made for you."
This time his voice had substance – a solidness to it. Riza lowered her hand and looked in the direction of the sound, the first she truly heard in this space. Before her stood Roy Mustang, staring at her steadily, his eyes dark but calm. In his cupped hands he held the blazing light. It hurt to look upon it.
"Roy…" She was uncertain whether she uttered his name or simply felt it, but something about this place told her it did not matter.
"I gave this to you," Roy said. His voice was resonant, reverberating in Riza's newly-formed chest. "Long ago." He looked down at his hands, regarding the light with thoughtful eyes.
Riza shook her head. "I don't understand." The weight of a sudden burden fell over her. "I don't understand, Roy."
Roy smiled gently, shaking his head. "Just take it." The words sounded familiar, like some long-forgotten dream. He uttered them once before, in a quiet moment they shared in his apartment. Riza felt the soft brush of lips against her neck and smelled the smoky camphor of his scent. "A gift freely given. Made for you and you alone." An odd, hungry expression passed over his face and he pushed his cupped hands forward, urging her to take the light.
Slowly, Riza reached out, hands stretched towards the throbbing glow. Her fingers wrapped around it and she could feel its warmth. It was as familiar and comforting as a campfire – a force that was uniquely him. It fluttered like a bird in Riza's palms, thrumming in time with his beating heart. Something inside her shifted and calm recognition settled deep in her breast, for in that moment she knew the weight of his soul.
"You are the best part of me." This time the voice emanated from the light. Riza gazed at it in wonder as it slowly dimmed, its heat leaking out with each pulse. After a time she felt something smooth and heavy fall in its place. Riza blinked out the bright spots blazed into her vision, trying desperately to understand. In her hands lay a gun. The gun. Her gun.
Roy looked on, his expression fathomless.
She let out a soft sob, but nodded. She knew what she had to do. She only hoped she had the strength. The captain brought the gun before her, aiming it at Roy's chest.
Roy smiled. "I trust you."
"SHOOT HIM! NOW!"
Riza opened her eyes. She was standing in a cavern, gun in hand. Before her was Roy, tethered to stone and staring up at her with seeing eyes. She felt frozen in place, unable to move of her own will. A red light flashed in her periphery and darkness leaked back into her vision, threatening to swallow her again. Riza fought, the memory of the light her tether to reality. She felt her finger squeeze over the trigger. She had only an instant to act.
Roy! Riza ripped her arms upwards with all her strength, praying her aim would be true. She felt the hammer click.
BANG.
The percussion of the gun startled her – a stark contrast to the dark unreality she inhabited only moments before. Riza swiveled, sweeping the gun to her left, centering its sights on the Ishvalan girl. Ashika's expression froze, the beginnings of a triumphant crow fixed on her lips. Her lidless eyes filled with horror.
BANG.
The girl clutched her belly and staggered backwards; a garbled scream escaped her throat. As she fell, the cavern plunged into darkness.
-o-o-o-
It was Shane who found the first array: An unhappy accident at the end of a long and fruitless search.
Caelyn took charge in the wake of the attack on the Amestrian water trucks, ordering the Resistance men about as though they were incompetent children. She did not hesitate to send Shane away for a trivial errand disguised as an essential task: to search for traces of the Ishvalan girl implicated in the strike. Shane knew what she truly wanted: to distract him, dismiss him, and remove him from the action. Shane balked, arguing that he needed to stay for the sake of his people, but Caelyn would not hear it. Shane was powerless against an elder of the Ishvalan people, his grandmother.
Mustang remained conspicuously silent though it all, content to allow the older woman to speak for him. The general's milky eyes were far away, his demeanor distracted. Shane saw it as another sign of the man's weakness. Once again he was baffled why anyone would follow such a sniveling fool.
He shuffled off with the rest of the group, visibly sulking from the insult of his dismissal. All his planning for naught. The water trucks had been ripe for the taking: his one opportunity to show they could fend for themselves – that they should be the ones making decisions on supplies in Ishval. Everything had been perfect; he was poised to obtain what he truly wanted. And if it meant they drew the Amestrians into open conflict, all the better. Shane would step in, a pillar of might in the chaos – a clear leader of his people.
Yet he failed. Mustang and his minions ruined everything. Worse, his grandmother – the woman who raised him – had seen it all. She knew now: What Shane meant to do, how his men quailed at the first sign of trouble. He hated how the old woman stared at him, her expression a mix of soft disappointment and caring concern. All his careful planning – all the culling and curating of his Resistance group – and it only led to loss and the taste of bitter ash in his mouth. The water was gone, their reserves running dangerously low. Shane cared nothing for the Amestrians, but the hurt he caused his people gnawed at his heart.
And now he was powerless, banished to the desert with the remnants of his men and a contingent of Amestrian soldiers, his unwanted escort.
"The tracks lead this way," he muttered angrily to the tall man beside him. Shane could not bear to look at Scar, who hovered close ever since their group left the wet circle of the ruined trucks. The man was a traitorous liar, undeserving of his place in the hearts of the elder council. Worse, it seemed Scar was colluding with the Amestrians, rubbing salt in his too-fresh wound. It was clear Caelyn asked Scar to keep Shane out of further trouble. He was being nannied.
Scar grunted, pushing past the younger Ishvalan, following the barely–visible trail left behind by the attacker. The search was already challenging; there was little natural light aside from that of the waning moon. Some of the Amestrian soldiers had pulled out their flashlights, but the beams only traveled so far in the dark. A wind picked up from the east and the footprints were quickly filling with sand. The female Amestrian soldier, Catalina, had been correct: the attacker was a small girl, judging by the shallow, narrow-based impressions left in the sand. A larger set of men's boot prints were gouged next to the girls' – Shane could only assume they were the missing Lieutenant Havoc's. Perhaps the attacker had taken a hostage. Or perhaps they are allies, Shane thought darkly. Either way, they would not have much time before the path was obliterated by the desert wind. He halfheartedly pressed on.
The girl's trail went cold three miles into the desert, the tracks swept away by the unending wind. The group spread out in all directions, hunting for the lost path, but after an hour of searching nothing remained. It was as though the girl and her captive disappeared. After a brief, murmured discussion, the Amestrian soldiers went their own way, heading toward their base. The Ishvalans moved toward their camp in kind.
Shane trudged ahead of the group, anxious to return home and salvage what little was left of his waning pride. Even now he could see the sidelong glances, the murmured voices, the shifting postures of his men. They knew he was weak now – easily manipulated, easily fooled. His facade of confidence torn away by one Roy Mustang. Shane growled and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image of that wretched man's smirking face.
He was only a few dozen feet from the Ishvalan camp when his foot hit something buried in the sand. It made a soft singing sound as it pulled from the night-cooled earth. "The hell?" Curious, he knelt down to inspect it.
"What have you found?" Scar called, stepping away from the rest of the Resistance group. His feet hardly made a sound as he approached.
Shane lifted a small piece of metal in his hands. It was shaped vaguely like an elongated pyramid; a circular loop jutted from its end. "A dagger."
"No," Scar said, crouching next to him. "A kunai."
"You're sure?"
The tall man grimaced. "Yes." He leaned down to run his hands through the sand. It was only a few seconds' work before he grunted, withdrawing another knife. It flashed coldly in the moonlight. He searched again. Soon he found three additional daggers, all buried in a perfect ring. "It's an alkahestry purification circle."
"What is it doing here?"
"Nothing good," Scar grunted. His face furrowed into a troubled expression. "There are others." He pointed a few yards away from where they knelt. Shane followed the older man's gaze and spied a tiny glint of silver peaking out of the sand. It was only a few paces away from an Ishvalan home.
"Shit," Shane whispered.
"Indeed." Scar's raised his right hand, fingers curled into an open–palmed claw. He pressed it into the sand.
Shane felt the hairs on his arms stand on end as a static energy filled the air. Blue arcs of light flew from the older Ishvalan's fingers and a sudden gust of wind swept upwards, pulling at their clothes. The other Ishvalans hung back, watching the transmutation with wary eyes. Silt blasted away from Scar's hand, forming a small crater in the earth. Shane looked on as a deepening frown carved its way over Scar's features.
"There are more," Scar said. "Many more."
"W– What?" Shane lurched to his feet. "What do you mean there are more? What are these things?" A nervous murmur traveled through the crowd.
"Traps," Scar said, his voice infuriatingly calm. "Focal points."
"Focal points. For what?"
The older man looked at him, expression grim but determined. "If we move quickly enough we will never find out." He thrust his foot though the sand, obliterating the space where the array lay hidden.
"We have to tell the elders!" Shane said, starting toward the heart of their camp. He stopped when he felt Scar's hand clasp his elbow.
"First you must decide."
Shane angrily whirled to face the other man. "What are you talking about? Decide what, old man?" He glanced over at his Resistance men, angrily wishing they were not here to witness his humiliation again. "We can't just sit here – people are going to get hurt!"
"You must determine whether you are with our people or against them."
For an instant, Shane was so shocked his jaw slacked open. His mouth worked wordlessly for a moment before he shut it with a resounding click of his teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about. Of course I'm with our people."
"You know exactly what I speak of." Scar's red eyes appeared a deep violet in the blue glow of the moon. "You have been acting like a child. It is time for you to decide if your own interests supercede that of others."
"How dare you?" Shane shouted. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. Your arrogance astounds me! You… you of all people should not be chastising me, traitor. I have only ever cared about our people! Sometimes I feel I'm the only one who can see the truth: The Amestrians don't care about us! They don't care about this restoration! The only want placate us into thinking they want to help when really they wish to cover up their mistakes."
"We have lost too many already," Scar said, unmoved. "Why do you wish to tempt war?" He gestured to the remaining members of the Resistance group. "Do you truly wish to risk their lives for such a petty, selfish goal?"
Shane's heart skipped in his chest. He filled it with air, puffing himself to a size bigger than himself. "You're one to talk. I heard what you did. I heard your name, whispered by the Amestrians with fear: Scar, the Alchemist–killer." Shane spat at the older man's feet. "You're nothing but a hypocrite."
If Shane's words dealt their intended damage, Scar showed no sign of it. The taller man simply let out a long breath from his nose, scrutinizing the Shane with shrewd eyes. "I understand, my brother – know that I do. But this cycle of hate will never heal the wounds of our people. It took some time and humility, but I choose to make peace with the Amestrians – to break the cycle, to prevent myself from being a prong in this wheel of violence. Now I ask you to choose as I did." He nodded in the direction of the Resistance . "If you are truly the leader of these men, you must have the courage to choose."
Soft mutters traveled through the gathered crowd. The men's voices carried an undercurrent of uncertainty and fear.
"I didn't… I didn't hurt anyone," Shane said, filled with sudden and overwhelming shame.
"I can't presume your intentions," Scar said. "But even you could see the potential consequences of what you planned."
Shane stared at the ground, unable to meet the older man's gaze. His toe dug angrily in the sand.
"I ask you to do this because we must be one front, united." Scar swept his arm out, his gesture encompassing the Resistance group, the Ishvalan camp and that of the Amestrians – only a tiny glimmer of faraway lights twinkling through the clear desert air. "There is an enemy who wishes to make us hate one another - to kill us all. Will you be so easily swayed – so manipulable as to do her work for her? Will you help her rain destruction on our people?"
Shane was mute for some time, merely breathing heavily through his nose. What business did this old man have telling him what to do – how to think? How dare Scar question his loyalty to Ishval? But then the image of a dead Amestrian soldier, partially embedded in wet sand, sprang to his mind. He saw the general's face, twisted in anger and fear for his captain. He recalled the forgiving eyes of his grandmother. His own eyes stole up to the gathered group of his men, friends and comrades all. Was he truly prepared to sacrifice their lives for his cause? "It's not a choice," he muttered. "When the impetus is guilt."
"At times, guilt is our best compass," Scar intoned. "When we are lost."
Shane grunted, unable to meet the older man's gaze.
"What say you?"
Shane glanced up Scar. "I… will help you. And our people." He sighed, the words harder to utter than he anticipated. "And if you choose to help the Amestrians… I won't stand in your way."
Scar nodded. "I will take you at your word, brother." His heavy hand landed on Shane's shoulder, fingers squeezing it in a comforting way. "Come, we have much to do."
-o-o-o-
"General?" The word went out like a wavering note, trembling in the air with all the uncertainty she felt. She could see nothing but complete and utter darkness. For a breathless moment, she feared she was thrust back into the desolation she escaped only seconds ago.
There was the sound of a body shifting on sand. "Captain…"
Riza let out a shuddering breath and took a tentative step forward, hand outstretched. Another step and her fingers met a soft spray of hair, matted with blood. "General..." she breathed. Her hand slipped down the side of his face, tripping over the tears in his skin. She felt his breath puff over her palm. He was alive.
"What happened?"
Riza opened her mouth to speak but discovered she could not find the words to describe the unmoving battle that took place in her mind. "I… broke free. Ashika – I shot her. The torches went out when she went down. I they may have been linked to her somehow."
"You broke free," he said, savoring each syllable.
"Yes."
"How – "
"Later," she said, hoping her voice sounded steadier than it felt. "I need some light." She desperately wanted to leave this place; it reminded her too much of the darkness. Reaching forward, she felt her way along the front of Roy's uniform, unbuttoning the collar down to the center of his chest. Inside a hidden inner pocket she found what she was looking for: a spare ignition glove. Her free hand skimmed down the length of his arm, brushing over the stone bindings until her fingers found his. She lingered there for a moment, her palm pressed against his now-familiar scars. Sucking in a breath, she helped him don the glove.
"Thanks."
There was a soft snap to her right and fire blazed through the space, streaking across the cave. Warm yellow light flashed over Roy's face, casting sharp shadows over the hollows of his eyes before the cavern fell into darkness once more.
"There they are," Roy muttered. He snapped again and this time the light streaked obliquely to her right, lighting two torches afire. They sputtered weakly, creating a tiny pool of light around them. On the very edge Riza could see the unmoving form of Ashika, her body crumpled like a broken doll. The girl's face was hidden in the shadows of her hood. Blood shone darkly on the rocks below her.
Riza turned back to Mustang, studying his face. Dried blood flaked on his cheek and down the side of his neck. His body hung loosely, held in place by the stone shackles, his wrists raw from his attempts at escape. His eyes were haunted but steady. Their milky blindness was gone, replaced by the impenetrable black she knew so well.
"You can see." The words fell somewhere between statement and question.
Roy's face slid into a humorless smile. "Her gift to me," he said. "It's... good to see your face, captain."
Riza's expression spasmed as a complex mixture of emotions crashed over her in waves. "It may be strange to say, but I'm grateful." Riza bowed her head to hide the wetness in her eyes. "I'm grateful," she said again. It was all she could manage.
There was an aching silence, interrupted only by the soft drip of water from the stalactites above. It was a long time before the general spoke again. When he did, an odd twinkle of humor had entered his voice. "Well," he said. "I finally got my wish, captain."
"What do you mean?"
"You shot me."
Riza's head snapped up, a gasp escaping her throat. "No – " She was certain she gained control just in time to save him. Her eyes roved over his body, searching for a new bloom of red. "No, I – " She reached forward, running her hands over his chest. "I didn't – " Her finger caught on a round hole in his coat, just below the left epaulette. Beneath she could see a linear graze along the skin of his upper shoulder. The stone behind him held an embedded bullet.
"You got me." She could tell from his voice he was barely holding back a chuckle.
Riza leaned back on her haunches and regarded him with one arched eyebrow. "That hardly counts as shot."
He attempted a shrug but stopped short with a pained grimace. "Pretty close."
She left out a huff. "It's a miracle I didn't kill you."
"I don't think so," he said, his voice suddenly serious. He looked up at her, expression thoughtful. His dark eyes penetrated her, staring straight into her soul. "Miracles had nothing to do with this, Captain."
Riza's cheeks warmed. "No," she said softly, remembering the blinding light in the darkness. "Perhaps not."
"Perhaps not," he echoed. "Riza… thank you." There was a long silence, filled with unspoken things, too close and too fresh to be uttered in the space between them. Finally the general shifted, boots scraping over the sand-coated floor. "Mind helping me out of these things?"
It took some work and more than a few jagged boulders to remove the stone shackles, but once one of Roy's arms was free it was nothing more than a clap and a flash of light before their task was done. Mustang slumped forward with a groan. It seemed his bindings were the only thing holding him upright.
Riza placed a hand on his knee, studying his face. "You okay?"
He nodded but even that seemed painful. "May need a bit of help with the walking part."
"Yes, sir." She reached under his arm and began to heave him to his feet but stopped short when she felt his ungloved hand cover hers.
"Don't," he said gruffly.
"Sir?"
"Don't call me that." He looked up at her. She wished she could understand the expression on his face: the same fathomless look he wore in the darkness. "Not anymore."
She paused. "Does this mean… your career… your mission…"
"No," he said. "It's not that. I'm not quitting the military. I mean to finish this thing…" She was relieved to hear his voice colored with the determination she knew so well – the same he had when they were young, dreaming of a better Amestris. "What's left of it, at least." His eyes stole up to hers again. "And I mean to finish it with you, if that's your wish." He let out a long breath. "Just don't call me sir. Not when it's just us."
Riza was silent a long time, thoughts swirling. She was unsure what to say – unsure of what this shift meant and would mean for them. Her throat felt tight; the right words were too hard to force through, so she settled for something simple: "We can talk about that later. Right now I need to get you out of here." Remembering, her eyes flicked back to the other side of the cavern.
The distraction did not escape Roy's notice. "What is it?"
"The boy."
"The girl's brother?"
Riza nodded. "He's alive."
Roy blinked at her. "You… you're sure?"
"Yes," Riza said. "He wasn't killed – only stunned. Nasty gash on his head, but he was breathing. I didn't let on because I was afraid she would hurt him. She seemed…" Riza paused, her chest rising and falling in a single, deep breath. "Willing to do anything to kill you."
Roy nodded. "Do you remember where you left him?"
"I hope so." She squeezed his shoulder gently. "Stay put. I'll find him."
"Oh don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," Mustang drawled, wistfully patting one thigh.
Riza stepped away from his warmth, picking her way over some rubble to collect one of the lit torches against the wall. Sweeping the light before her, she slowly made her way to where she recalled last seeing the boy at the other side of the cave. She wished she had more time to ensure Devon's safety, but in the moment she knew distraction was her best and only choice. She only hoped she made the right one. Riza arced the torch before her, searching for his tiny body.
"Do you see him?" Mustang called from the other side of the cave. He remained slumped against the stone slab, head tilted back, eyes closed. The general looked just as exhausted as she felt.
"Not yet," she said grimly. She swept her torch from side to side, searching with increasing fear. She found where she left Devon with relative ease, but the boy's body had seemingly disappeared. Not a trace of him remained – not a strand of hair, a piece of tattered fabric, or a scrape of a bare foot over sand. It was as though the child never existed. Riza prayed Devon fled to safety before Ashika tore the cave apart in her furied attempts to kill them.
"Anything?"
"No," she said sadly. "I'm coming back." Pushing down her disappointment and worry for the boy, she made her slow way across the cave. As she approached, the general blinked blearily at the torch in her hand, turning his face away from the blaze. "Sorry," she murmured. "Are your eyes bothering you?"
Roy shook his head. "I think they're just adjusting." He smiled up at her. "Don't worry about me – I'll be fine. Let's get moving."
"Yes s–" Riza stopped herself and smiled nervously. "Yes, let's get moving." She bent down to brace her left shoulder under the general's right and hefted him to his feet. She hefted the torch in her other hand. It took a few seconds to find her balance with Roy's weight pressing down on her, but soon they shuffled forward as one. As they passed through the cave, Riza's eyes traveled up to where they left Ashika's corpse: a silent moment of contemplation for the dead. Instead, she gasped.
Mustang's head popped up. "What is it?"
"We have to go," Riza said, struggling to suppress the rocketing terror that clenched her heart.
"Riza?"
"She's gone!" Her voice echoed hollowly off the cavern walls, reflecting her fear back at her. She needed to get them out of here. Now, before it was too late.
The pool of blood where Ashika once lay appeared black in the paltry light of the torch. The space was otherwise empty. Ashika's body had disappeared.
-o-o-o-
Falman and Suyin found more destroyed purification circles on the journey between the two camps, scattered haphazardly and without discernible pattern.
"There are hundreds of them," Falman said. "She must have been at it for days – weeks!" He could not help but run the figures over in his mind. Given the number they found and the area they covered, he estimated at least five hundred, assuming he had the correct radius for each camp. It seemed implausible to him that one girl could have set them up alone.
"Yes," said Suyin. Her eyes scanned the horizon to the south, in the direction of the Ishvalan ruins. The woman had gone strangely mute the instant they entered the desert in pursuit of the missing Ishvalan people. She hardly acknowledged the soldier at her side. Her voice and posture were tense, like a band stretched too far - ready to snap. Her hand ran absentmindedly over her kunai from time to time - a gesture that belied her hidden worry.
"What was she planning to do with all these arrays?" Falman mussed. "We haven't heard any more explosions… perhaps they're planted for some other purpose?"
Suyin's lips pursed. "They were a distraction. Nothing more."
"You're sure?"
"I am sure."
"Seems like a lot of effort for a simple distraction," Falman said, chewing on his lower lip. "Do you think –"
"Enough!" Suyin snapped. "Enough of your questions!" She stopped, hands fisted at her sides.
"I– I'm sorry," Falman said. "I didn't mean to –" He shifted from foot to foot, unsure of how to best handle the foreigner's sudden outburst. Falman was no expert on women, least of all strange Xingese alchahestrists.
"I am trying to concentrate."
"Oh." Falman's fingers twiddled at his sides. "I'm… I'm sorry."
Suyin let out a long breath. "No, it is not you. It is I who should apologize. " She shook her head as though trying to dislodge something unpleasant from off her skin. "Something is wrong."
Falman opened his mouth, considering his words. "Uh... more wrong than it was already?"
"Yes," she breathed. "The air… can you not feel it?"
Falman frowned. He felt nothing but the laminar flow of desert wind over his hands and cheeks. The analytic part of his mind briefly reviewed the migrating synoptic system associated with the Ishval region, but logic dictated this was not what the woman meant. "Sorry…" Falman muttered. "I don't understand what -"
"Shh," Suyin hushed him. "Listen." Her body stiffened. She took a hesitant step forward, head tilted up as though catching a scent. "She is alive."
"W– who is alive? Hawkeye?"
"No," Suyin said. "She." Her body visibly trembled in the moonlight. "She is angry."
"I– I don't understand."
"I was certain… I was certain if she could overcome…" Suyin bowed her head, posture suddenly enervated as though all the energy had been sucked from it. Falman was surprised to see a frustrated tear forge a moonlit trail down the woman's cheek. Suyin wiped it away hurriedly as though ashamed it existed.
"Are… are you alright?" He hesitantly placed a hand on the woman's shoulder in an awkward gesture of comfort. It felt as hard and unyielding as stone.
Suyin ignored him, instead drawing in a sharp breath and jolting forward, away from his touch. She sprinted to the top of the nearest dune. Her silhouette was all sharp, tense angles in the pale light. "No…" she said. "NO!"
A huge explosion blossomed from the faraway Amestrian camp, enveloping one of the buildings in flame and casting rubble into the night sky. Another followed a moment later, engulfing a second building at the opposite end of the camp. The sounds of panicked shouts could be heard, dimly echoed over an unbroken horizon of sand.
The Xingese woman fell to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Run, Riza!" her soft Xingese accent had transformed to something rough and ragged. "Run!"
-o-o-o-
"Roy, we need to move." Riza's chest felt tight, gripped with pain and fear. She would never say so aloud, but the general was slowing them down.
"I know." He said between pants. "Riza, maybe – "
"No," she said sharpy. "We go together or not at all."
His smile was rueful. "I wouldn't dare to suggest otherwise, Captain."
"Good."
Both soldiers were exhausted, pushed well past their limits. Roy hung heavily off Riza's shoulder, his feet barely clearing the ground with each step. Riza bore her burden with all the stoicism she could muster but the torch she carried dipped from time to time, casting long shadows against the uneven stone. She tried not to see way the obscurations stretched and morphed, forming grotesque figures on the walls.
It was impossible to make their journey subtle or secret; they were conspicuously loud. Their steps scrapped painfully over the rough floor of the cave, their breaths came in sharp, syncopated gasps. At times one or the other soldier would cry out in pain, the noise amplified by the stony walls. Riza could not help but cringe at each sound. It was only a matter of time before Ashika found them, and when she did she would not hesitate to kill.
Worse, Riza had lost all sense of direction. The path where Catalina escaped with Havoc and Marcoh bifurcated strangely at odd angles every few dozen feet. At each they had to choose: remain on the path or follow one of the branching passages. The road twisted and turned like a serpent – a maze of hidden shadows and crevices for Ashika to hide. Each route was as dark and threatening as the last. The paltry glow of their torch only spanned a few feet around them; twice already they came to an unanticipated dead end and had to turn back. For a fleeting moment, Riza thought they were headed toward the surface, but then the path pitched down under their feet, deeper under the earth.
"This place is a maze," Roy murmured.
"I don't remember it being like this when we entered," Riza said, brows furrowed. She pushed down the growinging panic in her gut. The girl was powerful, but could she shift earth without them knowing, change the paths even as they were being traversed? Was Ashika funneling them towards their doom?
"Do you remember how many turns you took?"
She shifted her weight, repositioning herself more firmly under Mustang's shoulder. "Honestly, I don't remember much about how I… how we made it to the cave," she admitted. "We were in a bit of a rush."
"Well then, how did you find me, Captain?"
Riza was silent for at time, her eyes trained on the cavern floor. "It's… difficult to explain." A shudder wracked her body as she recalled the powerful instinct that took hold of her in the desert. She was not ready to discuss her unnatural knowing – not when she did not understand it herself. "We should keep moving…"
Roy studied her through the corner of his eye. "I think I may know."
She remained silent. Her eyes drifted toward him but darted away before they met his. She was afraid of what he would read in them. He always seemed to know her secret thoughts, unraveling her like a cat with a ball of string.
"You felt it."
Riza's breath hitched.
"You felt me."
"H– How did you –"
"Because," he said. "I felt it, too."
Riza exhaled shakily. "I…"
"Tell me," he said, his voice raw. "Tell me I'm not imagining this. Tell me I'm not going insane."
Riza glanced up at him, the words escaping in a single, rushed breath. "You're not. You're not imagining it. But I don't understand what this is, Roy. I don't understand how I could sense you. I knew you were hurt. I knew you needed help. I just knew."
"I wish I had answers for you," he said softly. "I wish I understood this power… this…"
"Affinity," she finished. "Like a link."
"Yes," he mussed. "But it's more than that."
Riza blinked her acquiescence. In her heart she know he was right. There was something more to this ability - something more profound than she could know. But she found herself incapable of describing the depth and breadth of this new sense. It was real – of that she was certain. Even now she could feel a tendril of it: a luminous thread connecting her life to his. "Suyin… she said I had the means to fight. She said it would help me overcome Ashika's power."
"And you did." Mustang eyes scanned her face for a moment before he reached up to run his thumb over her cheek. She felt the roughness of his calluses and a shiver traveled down the length of her spine. "You saved my ass again, Captain."
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Riza tried to turn away to hide them, but Roy's hand held firm against the side her face, bringing her eyes to meet his.
"Running away from me again?" he whispered softly. His fingers unfurled to stroke the soft place behind her ear.
Riza stood frozen, captivated by the earnestness of his gaze. With her body pressed up against his, she could feel the calming measure of his heartbeat. An ache filled her chest as she realized how much she missed his nearness, his scent, his voice. Roy leaned closer, his fingers slowly working their way into the hair at the base of her neck. Riza's lips parted and her head tipped back, open to him for the first time.
Their stolen moment was short-lived.
"How very endearing." A high-pitched voice cut through the darkness in front of them.
Mustang shouted, lifting his gloved hand, but quickly he stumbled back, pulling the captain with him as flashes of silver budded at their feet in a perfect circle. Riza only just recognized the now-familiar pentagram of Alkahestry before the earth erupted below them, filling the tunnel with an awful roaring. The two soldiers were driven apart, bodies thrown against opposite walls. The breath left Riza's body and the torch fell from her nerveless hand. It clattered to the floor, sputtering but still aglow.
At the very edge of the light stood Ashika, her figure framed by the yawning maw of a tunnel that branched acutely from their path. The girl appeared more haggard and wretched than before, her face a ghastly white. Blood soaked the front of her robe from torso to hem, where it dripped steadily from its frayed edge. In one hand she held a long, wicked knife.
Roy lumbered to his feet and lifted his hand to snap, but the girl darted forward, swiping at his fingers with deft ease. The general cried out as the blade slashed through the flesh of his palm. A red stain formed on the fabric in seconds.
"Mustang!" Ashika crowed. She stepped forward, pressing her advantage while the general was distracted from his injury. She cried out again and blood spurted from her wound, spattering on the stones at her feet. In the next breath, Ashika lifted the knife above her head, holding it aloft it in both hands. It flashed coldly in the pale light of their fallen torch as she brought it down on the general's chest with all her might. Roy let out a soft grunt as the knife's edge rammed between his ribs, in the space just over his heart.
Riza felt pain rend her own chest. The breath left her body and blood rose to the back of her throat. A dreadful sound filled the cavern and it took her a moment to realize she was screaming.
Ashika smiled, triumphant. She plucked the knife from Roy's chest with a horrible, wet sucking sound. The general staggered back in a painful wheeze. Blood gushed from his wound, staining the front of his coat in the span of a single breath. He toppled backward, falling to the floor without lifting a hand to brace himself. His next breath was gurgled.
The girl stepped toward Mustang's fallen body, blood-stained knife in hand.
Riza stumbled to her feet. "Stay away from him!" She drew her weapon and centered its sites on Ashika.
The Ishvalan girl turned to face the captain. Her gaunt face was disturbingly calm.
Riza's finger spasmed over the trigger but she stopped when a flash of movement entered the weak pool of light. A white-haired figure darted past the torch and pounced on Ashika's back, wrapping its feet around the girl's waist. It was Devon. The boy let out a high-pitched wail, garbled with words too slurred to understand. His hand clasped around his sister's wrist and smashed it against the wall. The knife fell from Ashika's hand and hurtled to the cave floor. With a whoop of victory, the boy dropped to the ground and scooped up the weapon.
"Devon!" Ashika screeched, turning to her brother, a look of fury twisting her scarred face. "Give that to me!" She held out her hand, reaching out to her brother, fingers like talons.
The boy murmured something unintelligible. His brows were bunched with anger; he held the knife before him, taut in his hand.
Seeing an opening, Riza stumbled to Roy's side. His eyes were open, but they roved around the space without seeing. Blood poured from his wound, soaking through the gloved hand clutched to his chest. Riza choked back a sob and brushed his hand aside to press hers against the gash.
"Give that to me you little shit!" Ashika was still focused on her brother, now crouched like an animal, the knife held low in his hands. "You give that to – AH!" The girl screamed as the knife darted at her wrist, drawing blood. "Stop it Dev– AH!" She shrieked again, this time stumbling backward as another slash opened the skin of her leg.
Devon snaked forward, knife raised. His eyes were savage. Insane. Filled with deadly intent.
"Stay away from me," the girl hissed, the first hints of panic coloring her voice. "Stay away from me you little shit. How dare you do this to me? How dare you – AH!"
Her scream was filled with terror this time. Devon had caught hold of her neck. He held the knife point to her throat, its blade close enough to draw blood. The boy let out a triumphant cry, high and keening.
"Let go of me! Let go! Don't!" The shrieks had turned to whimpers, filled with fear and despair. "S– Stop Devon! Stop!" The boy did not seem to hear her. He dragged his sister backwards into the darkness, possessing a strength that seemed impossible for his tiny body. The sounds of scraping feet and screeching wails echoed off the walls – fading – swallowed by the darkness. Soon the noises were replaced by those of splashing water. A stagnant scent wafted through the air, followed by the sounds of turbulent waves – of roiling tides. It was a long time before there was silence. When it fell, it did with a grave finality Riza knew all too well.
The captain listened to the quiet for the painful span of a dozen breaths. It stretched long, echoing back only absence and loss. "They're gone," she breathed. She looked down at Roy. His face was covered with a sheen of sweat. "General –"
Roy shook his head, eyes closed. Furrowing his brows in concentration, he lifted both hands in front of him and clapped, then pressed one hand against the floor. An alchemic wall rose from the ground, blocking the path where the two Ishvalan children disappeared. With a rattling breath, Roy allowed his arms to fall limply to the floor.
"General," Riza whispered. He did not stir. "Roy!" she shouted. Mustang's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her as though he only just realized she was there. Riza leaned close, hands sliding on his blood–slicked wound. "Stay with me," she said. The pain in her chest flared. His face was growing pale, his pulse slowing under her palms, and they were utterly alone.
Roy's chest heaved as he sucked in a garbled breath. He was drowning in his own blood.
"What can I do?" Riza said. His blood flowed unhindered between her fingers, pooling in the rocky crags beneath his body. Panic clutched her heart. He was dying, fading beneath her very hands. "What can I do?" She bowed her head, eyes squeezed shut. She felt so helpless. A feeling of foreboding loomed close; she could sense the dreadful gaze of a specter waiting impatiently for an end.
"Can… try…" Roy gasped. The familiar, electric light of alchemy sparked between his fingers.
"No." Riza said. "The price. It's not worth it, Roy." Human transmutation had taken too much from them already. Who knew what it would steal this time? Roy would be lucky to survive if he tempted the Truth a second time. It was not worth the cost.
"Not… that..." The light between Roy's fingers died and his hands relaxed once more. "Riza…"
"Don't speak," she said. "Save your strength."
"Tell…" he coughed. "Tell… the others…"
Riza could not suppress her sob this time. "No." she said. "You can tell them yourself."
Roy's expression softened. "Riza… I'm sorry." A horrible gurgle burst from his throat, staining his lips with flecks of blood. "I'm sorry… for… everything."
"Don't say that." The ache in Riza's chest throbbed insistently and she tasted the tang of blood on her lips. She could not bear the parting nature of his words, for each one felt like a final farewell. "Please don't say it like that."
The general had gone silent. Looking up, Riza watched in horror as Roy's lids drooped and his body sagged under her palms.
"No!" she cried, pressing her hands more firmly against his wound. "Stay with me." The nagging pain in her chest flared and she swore she could feel wet on the front of her shirt. "Don't go," she whispered, her voice choked with tears. Roy's eyes were drifting now; he reached up weakly towards her face, but lacked the strength to touch her. Riza caught his wrist, her fingers staining his skin with blood. She pressed her lips against his palm and placed it against her cheek. "I love you."
A curious, vulnerable expression stole over his face: one of naked wonder and perverse determination. His lips parted, forming words she could not understand. For a long time, they stared at one another, each lost in the other's eyes, trying to divine meaning – to cling to something as the world fell apart around them.
After a time Roy closed his eyes and gulped in a single, wet breath. "Alka… hestry."
"Suyin said she couldn't teach you."
His lips curled into a ghost of his familiar smirk. "Trust… me."
Riza drew a sharp breath, looking down at the man she stood beside for so many years – the man who stood beside her in turn. How many countless times had they relied on one other? He trusted her to watch his back, to be his steadfast warden when all was lost. He trusted her in the darkness – had known she would do everything in her power to save them. Now he asked the same of her. Riza let out an agonized cry, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks. In a way, it was not a choice, for she made it many years ago. Her fate was decided the moment she met this man.
"I trust you, Roy."
Filled with a resolve she did not wholly understand, Riza removed her remaining hand from his wound and grasped Roy's other wrist. Lips pressed in a single line, she brought his hands together – palm against palm. She gasped as an overwhelming energy entered her body, flowing through her in a torrent. She could feel it in the earth below her feet. She could taste it in the acrid bite of stagnant water. She could hear it in the still void between sounds. Roy seemed to sense it too. His eyes were open now, focused and Seeing. Filled with new energy, he reached up to Riza's face, cupping it tenderly in both hands. A path spread before them that was was both intimate and strange.
Letting out a breath she did not realize she was holding, Riza pressed her forehead against Roy's, allowing this new power to rush over and through her. Blinding light filled the cavern, then surged inward toward the two soldiers, pulling matter to it like a dying star. Wind whipped at Riza's clothes, drawing her closer to the man dying on the floor below her. She closed her eyes, reaching out to him, desperately seeking true understanding before it was too late.
-o-o-o-
A/N: Sometimes you just need to write a chapter to know how it will turn out. This one in particular was my snagging point – why I was stuck for so long. It was just a bunch of scattered ideas I could not quite piece together. Now it's formed and final. I hope it makes sense.
Not much more to go, my friends. Rounding the last corner now. Come with me; I will lead the way.
Next Chapter: Chord